Your heart's like an engine
by Just-Another-Secret
Summary: A small one-shot. Based on a song I love. Taylor/ Andrea, rated for the pairing and darker content. Please don't read if easily upset. Taylor has split up with Andrea, Andrea is thinking about life, and death.


Your heart's like an engine-

(Brownie points to anyone who gets the song this fic is based on. My first ever song based fiction. I'm not doing the lyrics then writing, it's just an idea I got whilst listening to my favourite band. I really hope you like. I do warn you it isn't the best. I wanted to make it obvious enough for you to guess the song. I hope it's okay.)

Rated for the slash pairing as I know some people don't like it. I obviously don't make any money from this and I don't own St. Trinians, otherwise we'd see far more of Andrea and Taylor and Zoe and Bianca.

A Taylor/ Andrea. I hope you enjoy. Please rate. I like feedback.

Andrea's POV-

I kept to myself, as I normally did, huddled all alone into the corner at the back of the St. Trinians bus. Even though I was pretending to be completely engrossed in watching the passing scenery and the music that everyone presumed was spewing from my headphones. They were silent. I just didn't want to be annoyed. I was actually listening intently to a conversation that was going on halfway down the bus.

Taylor and one of her chav friends were having an obnoxiously loud conversation about new types of liquid eyeliner. However hard I tried I couldn't shake the nauseating feeling that with every beat of that slightly orange girl's heart I was dying a little inside. Her voice rose to an almost electric pitch as she squealed with laughter.

I sighed and slumped back in my lumpy bus seat. I could lie through my teeth that I hated that girl, that I was glad she'd finished it, that she was annoying and stupid and mindless and how I could never really get on with her. About how it had just been about the sex. But in my heart, that niggling little voice, the one that sits on your shoulder and comes out at the worst possible times and seems to accomplish nothing but making you feel even worse. That one was talking to me. Telling what I already knew.

Telling me I was lying. That I was smitten, that I was so totally in love with her, and that I was just pleading that she felt the same.

I slowly slipped a hand into my jacket pocket and pulled out the crumpled letter that lay there, the paper still holding its original scent, but now stained with blood and tears. I quickly skipped to the last line.

'I just don't love you.'

A small silver tear slipped from my left eye, leaving tracks through my make up as it slid to my chin then dropped onto my sleeve. My eyes flickered down; I could see the outcome of that line, cut deep into my arm. Sad really, I hadn't cut myself or even burnt myself since Taylor and I kissed. She had made me promise. There was no point in keeping that promise anymore.

Last night had been the worst ever. I doubted my arms would ever look the same. I couldn't bring myself to care though. It gave some relief, but it didn't last, it never did. The shiny silver blade that brought so much pain brought so much relief, and then angst. If people found out I'd be teased even more and Kelly would feel the need to have a 'chat' with me. They never ended happily.

She had promised! Taylor had promised! She'd promised many things, but I was so sure she's keep this one. She promised she loved me, she promised she would always love me, no matter what. And that she'd never hurt me. She lied.

There's no love in you, Taylor. Yet I keep loving you.

We're reached the cross roads, I wasn't sure which way we were going. I had no idea where we were headed. Like my life, I wasn't in control.

I dug around in my pocket, my fingers making contact with the shiny cold metal. I carefully pulled it out and lay it on my palm. The blade just poked through the card it was wrapped it. Slowly, systematically I unwound it, dramatically to some people. But I suppose the whole thing was a performance. Smokers have their own habits, like tapping the cigarettes out a certain number of times, how they light it, where the lips hold it.

It was an automatic reaction now, a bad thing happens, the blade comes out.

The worst thing is she doesn't realise, every breath that girl takes when she isn't with me causes me pain. I sound so emo to say it, but it's like she stole my heart. And with each step she takes it further away. Taylor was so cold to do what she did, so remote.

There's no love in you, Taylor. Yet I keep loving you.

I held the blade inches from my jugular. Ready to slice it at the next bump in the road.

You're automatic to me now, Taylor.


End file.
